


forward momentum

by markohmark



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, First Times, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markohmark/pseuds/markohmark
Summary: “A relationship isn’t an iPhone, Hyuck,” Mark says. He laughs: an aborted, bitter sound. “I’m notlookingfor a damn upgrade.”(Or: Donghyuck and his first times)





	forward momentum

**Author's Note:**

> ao3 user markohmark back on her [markhyuck](https://www.vlive.tv/video/121514?channelCode=F3C16D) [bullshit](https://twitter.com/NCTsmtown_127/status/1114540960216518656) / [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5DBMlo33frSas4YyEA8hKP?si=t8Bti-YIQnakLJjOPsqUDw) / thank u caz for being a lovely beta <3
> 
> cw for brief mention of underage drinking

Here’s the thing: Donghyuck is fifteen-shy, all growing limbs and acne-covered insecurity. So, when Renjun Huang tells them that he got his first kiss, Donghyuck immediately thinks _damn, I gotta have it._

He can’t stop thinking about it when he walks home from the bus stop. What would it be like to _kiss_ someone? Not like the pecks he presses onto Jeno’s cheeks just to hear him holler real loud. Not like the “cooties” Yerim Kim transferred to him in the third grade underneath the swingsets. He’s talking about a real kiss, a _romantic_ kiss. A kiss with intent, if nothing else.

“What’re you thinking about?” Mark asks, slowing to a stop. He gives Donghyuck a strange look. “You alright?”

Donghyuck blinks. He’s already two houses past his own home.

Mark opens his mouth again, presumably to say something like, _Donghyuck Lee, what the hell is up with you,_ but before he can do so Donghyuck says—

“Have you kissed anyone before?” His eyes widen as soon as he realizes what he’s saying, and he clamps his mouth shut. It’s too late; what’s said has been said.

Mark’s eyes widen too, and then he rolls his eyes. “Is _that_ what you were so lost in thought about?” He reaches over to flick Donghyuck’s forehead gently.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Donghyuck persists. He might as well get an answer out of Mark if he’s already asked, And, well, he’s _curious._ Mark is a year older, and decently popular, but it’s still hard to reconcile that Mark Lee with the same boy he grew up with.

Mark looks away from Donghyuck. “Yeah, I have,” he says.

“Who was it?” Donghyuck asks, before he can help himself. “It was totally Koeun, wasn’t it?” he continues. Koeun was Mark’s girlfriend last year, at least until they broke up three months later over what Mark called _midyear-induced stress_.

Mark frowns, twisting his hands together. “Look, it doesn’t matter who it was with,” he says finally. “I don’t get why you’re making such a big deal out—” he breaks off, realization dawning upon him. “You haven’t kissed anyone before, have you?”

“Maybe,” Donghyuck replies, because Mark knows him too well to be able to tell when he’s lying or not.

“It really isn’t a big deal,” Mark says, eyes wide and reassuring. “Legit, I don’t think it matters at _all_.”

Donghyuck tilts his head, considering. It’s so easy for Mark to say that it doesn’t matter. Donghyuck wants to make that judgment for himself, to see what the hype is about and _then_ decide if it’s for him.

“If it doesn’t matter,” Donghyuck drawls slowly, “then why don’t you kiss me?”

“What—” Mark makes this aborted noise in his throat like a half-strangled scream, then coughs for a couple of seconds. “Here?” he asks incredulously. “Right _now_?”

“Not outside, you dumbass,” Donghyuck replies. “Your parents aren’t home yet, right?” He looks around for a moment, just to see if any of the nosey neighborhood aunties have picked up on their conversation. The only other person outside is the landscaper four houses down.

“Right,” Mark echoes, unsure. “Okay, yeah, it isn’t a big deal.” He sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself more than anything else.

“So,” Donghyuck says, once both of them are inside the empty, air-conditioned oasis that is Mark’s house, “how does this work?” They’re sitting side-by-side on the same sofa they used to play Mario Kart on.

“Um, I think it would be easier if I just—leaned in?” Mark says. He reaches out to cup the side of Donghyuck’s cheek, fingers warm against his skin.

Nothing really prepares him for the proximity of it, the sheer closeness of Mark and his lips and his hands and—him. Donghyuck is shocked-still into it like a freeze-dried fish, and it takes him a good five seconds to realize _Oh, yes, I’m kissing someone. I’m being kissed._

But Donghyuck is fifteen-shy and absolutely clueless about anything related to kissing. Their teeth clack together for half a second and all he can register is a lot of saliva, really. This isn’t anything romantic, no, and it’s barely a kiss with _intent._

Soon Mark pulls away, grimacing as he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “See?” he says. “Wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “I guess it was alright,” he says carefully. That’s the weird thing about kissing: despite how god-awful it had been, Donghyuck wants to try it again.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

A lot can change in a year. Mark, if even possible, somehow changes from cute to _handsome_ in the blink of an eye. Donghyuck himself finally loses the acne and the awkwardness, baby fat smoothing away until all that’s left is a lingering bit of softness in his cheeks when he looks in the mirror.

It’s weird, the way things are different now. After he performed a solo in chorus, a girl shyly wished him congratulations. On Valentine’s Day, he got a carnation from a secret admirer that _wasn’t_ just Jaemin Na trying to prank him.

And now he’s heading to his first high school party, too. Granted, it isn’t a big one—most of them are Debate and/or FBLA nerds, not too interested in actual partying—but Yerim’s parents are out for the weekend and she promised alcohol.

Donghyuck’s never even had a sip of beer before.

“It doesn’t taste good,” Mark warns him, watching with trepidation as Donghyuck brings the cup to his lips.

Donghyuck pauses. “How will I know if I don’t try?” he replies, raising his eyebrows. With that, he takes a sip of the beer. It’s fucking _terrible_.

“Damn, you’re right,” he says, wincing. “It tastes like _dogshit_.”

“Here, take my Sprite,” Mark says, patting Donghyuck’s back. “Tastes a lot better, doesn’t it?”

Donghyuck hates Sprite, and Mark knows it; they’ve probably had at least five arguments about whether Ginger Ale or Sprite is better.

“Guys, come _on_ ,” Yerim calls from the next room. “We’re gonna start Truth or Dare!”

Everyone’s cloistered in Yerim’s stuffy living room. Donghyuck can’t help but smile at the contrast between Lucas Wong’s scruffy hoodie and the frilly sofa he’s sharing with Renjun and Yangyang.

There’s barely any space left, so Donghyuck sits down next to Mark on the carpet.

“Alright, let’s start,” Yerim says, clapping her hands together. “If you refuse to do a dare, you have to drink this—” she holds up a shot glass, evidently filled with the shitty beer Donghyuck had tasted just minutes ago. “If you refuse to tell a truth, then…”

“Then you also have to drink,” Chaeyoung supplies for her. “It’s pretty simple.”

It starts off pretty mild, at first. Jaemin’s dared to rap along to “Crank That.” Renjun has a crush on Yiren from AP Stats. It goes on like this, with some people choosing to drink rather than run naked across the street or reveal who they like, until Yerim turns toward Donghyuck and says—

“Donghyuck,” she says. “I dare you to kiss someone in this room.”

Donghyuck doesn’t even _consider_ choosing the beer instead. A lot can change in a year, and newly-seventeen Donghyuck is no stranger to making out in sheltered alcoves after school. Now, it’s just a matter of who. He already knows Jaemin Na would kiss him in a heartbeat; they had made out once after FBLA states, Donghyuck gripping onto Jaemin’s tie, Jaemin wishing he was holding onto someone else. Yerim or Jeno would probably be game, too. They’ve known each other for too long _not_ to.

Beside him, Mark runs his fingers through the plush strands of the carpet, eyelashes fanning out across his cheeks. Suddenly, Donghyuck remembers that afternoon last spring, their clumsy attempt at a first kiss.

The wanting pulses in him like a sore. He needs—he wants—Mark.

“Mark,” Donghyuck whispers, leaning in close. “Is this okay?”

Mark’s eyelashes flutter, eyes wide and surprised as he nods. “Yeah, sure,” he replies. Parties are parties, after all, and anything goes.

This is nothing like his first kiss. This time Donghyuck presses forward, sure and certain, deepening the kiss when he feels Mark press forward. It’s that same feeling—that intoxicating closeness, that warmth that Donghyuck so ardently chases—that gets to him.

Mark’s clammy hand cups the back of Donghyuck’s neck, drawing him in even closer, and he feels—

“Alright, alright,” Yerim says, interrupting the two of them. “That’s—definitely enough for now.”

Mirroring last time, Mark wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. This time, though, his lips are obscenely red and shiny, eyes dazed as he regards Donghyuck.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck replies, eyes still focused on Mark. His heart is beating a two-time song, the blood in his veins pulsing along. “I suppose it is.”

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

Something changes after that. Not in a major way, but life changes nonetheless: it’s a geometric transformation that contracts Donghyuck’s world. The summer before junior year should be air-conditioned rooms and thankless SAT studying, but Mark manages to inspire some sense of hope despite his own impending future.

“Aren’t you _worried_?” Donghyuck asks. “About apps and stuff?”

Mark shrugs, slouched against the sofa so that his cheek sticks to the leather. “What’s the point,” he says, sighing quietly. “I’d rather enjoy what I have of the summer, you know?”

Not that Mark has much to enjoy. While Donghyuck spends his weekdays divided between volunteering at the local hospital and poring over SAT prep books, Mark has a fancy nine-to-five research internship at the local university lab.

The few hours they spend together on Friday and Saturday afternoons should, in theory, tide Donghyuck over for the next week, but he’s never been one for sense or rationality. This burgeoning feeling that grows every time he looks over at Mark, as precarious as a double rainbow—upside-down, reflected and faint, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of crush—defies the laws of reason itself.

“I guess,” Donghyuck replies. He leans over, observing the way Mark seems so at peace with his eyes closed.

Mark opens his eyes. “What—what are you doing?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. It only makes Donghyuck notice how toned they are under Mark’s muscle tank.

“ _Mark_ ,” Donghyuck says. Over the years, Donghyuck has come to perfect this voice—it’s the way he got Mark to drive him to school in the mornings, it’s the way he got Mark to kiss him back then.

“What is it?” Mark’s starting to blush at their proximity. This, too, Donghyuck enjoys—Mark’s never been one to care about how touchy he is, but ever since the party his cheeks turn pink at the easiest touch. It’s an addictive power, and one that Donghyuck wields with pleasure.

“Maybe…” Donghyuck trails off, running his hand over the length of Mark’s exposed arm. It’s precarious, a fifty-fifty shot. He has never liked the laws of probability. “Maybe you should ask me out.”

Mark’s eyes widen, and he barely hides a smile behind the palm of his hand. “Didn’t _you_ just ask me out?”

“No,” Donghyuck says. He’s never asked anyone out before, has never _had_ to. “But I’m saying that _you_ should.”

“But you already did!” Mark replies. He sits up, grinning. “I can’t believe you beat me to it—”

“You haven’t even done it yet,” Donghyuck replies, because he can, because Mark is bright and _willing_ on this hot summer day.

“Fine.” Mark leans closer to Donghyuck, eyes impossibly bright. “Will you go out with me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Donghyuck says. “I feel like I waited so _long_ —”

Mark rests his hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder. “How was I supposed to tell how you felt—”

Donghyuck licks his lips, inching ever so closer. “Wasn’t my flirting obvious—”

“Man, that was flirting?” Mark asks, more of a whisper than anything else.

“Of course.” Donghyuck breathes, a shaky inhale and exhale. Then, he leans forward, closing the gap between the two of them, watching as Mark’s eyes flutter shut.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

It’s the end of the summer, or at least it’s approaching the end. Donghyuck took the SAT two weeks back, and he _thinks_ he didn’t fail. Not completely, anyways. Mark’s last day of his internship was a couple days ago.

It’s hard to not wake up every day and feel as if every moment is wasting away. Donghyuck imagines Mark’s heart as a ticking time-bomb, finite, unable to love once school and stress and everything else kicks in.

A lot can change, but Donghyuck has never known how to not be afraid. He knows other things—more important things, arguably. He knows how to make others laugh, he knows how to kiss away the worried wrinkle between Mark’s eyebrows, he knows how to hit a G5 without straining.

“What’re you thinking about?” Mark asks. The sun’s starting to set, a mix of crimson and violet smeared across the sky. The days are getting shorter. Donghyuck can’t help but think of the last time he had said those words.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck says. The truth is he thinks far too much to quantify anything. It’s all abstract, muddled up in his head, thought fragments and fragmented thoughts.

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck repeats. “I think I just—don’t want the summer to end.”

It’s the first time he’s felt this way. Usually, by the time August rolls around, Donghyuck is so bored out of his mind that he’s _excited_ for school, even if he hides it under a veneer of eye-rolls and loud laughter. But now the days pass like honey, sweet and slow, and he _still_ dreads the end of it.

“We’ll be fine, you know,” Mark says. “Even if I’m kinda stressed about college.”

“Should I believe you?” Donghyuck asks. He reaches out, runs his thumb over the curve of Mark’s eyebrow.

“Why shouldn’t you?” Mark replies.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

“Shouldn’t we dance?” Donghyuck asks. It’s senior prom. In truth, he’s never been to a school dance before. In junior high, they seemed too lame; in high school, he barely has time to balance his friends and school and Mark without thinking about inane things like homecoming and school spirit.

He’ll make an exception for Mark’s senior prom, though. They had rented out tuxedos together, smiling for pictures as their parents cooed over the two of them.

“Maybe we should, yeah,” Mark replies. He keeps wiping his palms against his black slacks, oddly nervous.

Donghyuck takes Mark’s damp hand to lead him over to the dance floor. The lights have been turned off, a disco ball refracts pinpricks of colored light across the walls. The music slows, sweet and saccharine, all of the senior-year sweethearts enjoying each other in the moment.

Donghyuck isn’t a senior, nor has he ever been much of a sweetheart.

“Ow!” Mark winces. “I think you stepped on my toe, Hyuck.”

“I don’t get it,” Donghyuck voices, staring down at their feet. “How does this work again?”

“Just step when I step back,” Mark tells him. “Like this.”

“Like this?” Donghyuck asks, still looking down at his feet. He starts to settle into the rhythm of it, gradual and sure. _Step front, step back._

“Hey,” Mark says softly.

Donghyuck still focuses on the _step front, step back_. His heart thuds in his chest, a heavy rhythm. What is it about Mark that makes his heart race faster than the Daytona 500?

“Donghyuck,” Mark says, a little louder.

Donghyuck looks up. “Yeah?” he says. For all the senior-year sweethearts, this is only one part of saying goodbye.

Mark presses his forehead against Donghyuck’s, eyes closing with a sense of calm he cannot place.

“I—I—” Mark says. Donghyuck knows, with a startling sense of clarity, what he is about to confess.

So he leans in and covers Mark’s mouth in a kiss. There are some things that are too precious to hear, some things that he doesn’t want to face.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

It’s like the riddle with the chicken and the egg, in the sense that Donghyuck doesn’t know what comes first—do they break up because he’s too afraid of anything deeper, of the words he muffled with his lips, or is he too afraid because he knew they would break up? It’s the worst kind of self-fulfilling prophecy.

“Let’s break up,” Donghyuck says. It’s the Sunday morning before Mark leaves for college, the slight chill predicating the autumn to come.

“Why?” Mark asks, more confused than panicked. “Why now—of all times—”

“Because you’re going to college,” Donghyuck says. He looks down at the ground. It had rained yesterday, and now pink earthworms lie shriveled-up on the pavement.

“It’s only three hours away—”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s three hours away or three states away,” Donghyuck interrupts. When will Mark _get_ it? “You’ll still be in a different world.”

Mark’s expression shutters in on itself like a toppled house of cards. It feels like the worst sort of defeat. They had tried to build something that would last out of something so flimsy that of _course_ they would fall apart. Had Mark known this too? That it would come to this?

“Okay,” Mark says, except no sound comes out.

“Okay,” Donghyuck replies. He’s surprised that he can hear himself; it sounds like a stranger talking.

The wind whistles through tree branches and dry, dry lawns as they regard each other in silence.

Donghyuck’s first breakup is nothing like the screaming matches he had watched avidly in the movies. There are no weepy melodramatics, no last-minute confessions. Like the aftermath of a horrible storm, there is only quiet devastation left in its wake.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Mark comments. Yerim, Jaemin, and the rest of the gang are here, ready to send him off to college.

Donghyuck shrugs. “I wanted to say goodbye,” he says simply.

At the end of it all, he still hugs Mark before he leaves. The day before, Mark had suggested they stay as friends. Donghyuck agreed to it, the first time he’s ever lied to Mark, outright.

It’s easy to make all sorts of promises to someone you won’t see for four months.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

Senior year passes by in a biphasic blur. Donghyuck spends most of autumn stressing out over college applications, and relaxes in the spring once acceptances start to roll out. He gets into his top school, UCLA, Jeno’s heading off to Berkeley, and Renjun must have been a saint in his past life because he gets into _Stanford_.

Mark doesn’t come back home for break, and Donghyuck only knows about what he’s up to from overhearing his mother’s conversations when she meets up with Mark’s mom. It’s a good thing, that he let Mark go: he’s thriving at UC Berkeley, as far as Donghyuck can hear. There’s no place for Mark’s high-school boyfriend in his shiny college life.

When his mom asks him whether he’d like to visit Korea for the summer—his last summer before he’ll have to take on internships in preparation for a job—Donghyuck doesn’t even need to think twice. It’s easy math: if there’s even a chance of Mark returning home for the summer, Donghyuck won’t cross paths with him.

It’s easier this way. Mark is a wound that has not healed, a scab that Donghyuck has picked at so many times that it has become something much uglier.

So, Donghyuck boards a plane to Seoul with his mother, his first time to ever visit Korea. He takes walks with his _halmeoni_ , eats as much different food as possible, and talks to his cousins in a hodgepodge of Korean and English because neither of them are good at the other language.

It’s thrilling to be in Seoul, even more so to venture outside of the city and see the coast. It’s a summer filled with new things, and none of them have to do with Mark Lee.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay with me inviting him?” Jaemin asks, worried. His voice sounds slightly muffled over the phone.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Donghyuck replies, trying his best to sound unaffected. He stares at the walls of his high-school bedroom, at the Michael Jackson posters and flimsily-taped polaroids. Every year, he seems further and further from his past self. “It’s been two years since we broke up.”

“It’s been that long?” Jaemin says, incredulous. “Damn, I miss it sometimes.”

“All of us together,” Donghyuck replies, wistful. The photo on the nearest wall is one of him, Jeno, and Jaemin smiling together—presumably after their senior prom—and the sight of it stirs something within him. “Isn’t that the point of inviting _all_ of us? Even Mark?”

“It’s a high-school reunion,” Jaemin says. Donghyuck can almost _hear_ him rolling his eyes. “Our first one!”

“Don’t say it like that,” Donghyuck says. “You make it sound like we’re _old_.”

He’s _just_ nineteen, still barely much of an adult. He likes to think there’s still some life left in him.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

The gathering at Jaemin’s house, as it turns out, _does_ function as a high school reunion of some sorts. There are people he hasn’t seen for two years—Chaeyoung and Tzuyu—and people he saw literally last week—Jaemin and Jeno—and, of course, there is Mark Lee. A separate category to himself if there ever was one.

Donghyuck busies himself with cards, making sure to avoid Mark. It’s almost frightening, how hyper aware he is of him. After an hour or so, Donghyuck begins to relax. Mark seems to want to avoid him too, and he should be grateful—

“Hey,” Mark says easily, tapping Donghyuck’s shoulder. “Long time no see?”

“Uh, yeah,” Donghyuck says. Now that he’s thrust into conversation with Mark, he can take in all of the things that have changed. Mark has switched out his wire frames for sturdier glasses, and it suits him. So does his newly-dyed brown hair and simple graphic tees.

“Do you wanna catch up?” Mark asks. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

He’s trying to gauge Donghyuck’s reaction, and Donghyuck’s trying to gauge his reaction, and all of them are just _analyzing_ each other instead of telling the damn truth.

“Yeah, sure,” Donghyuck replies quietly. “Do you want to—outside?” He gestures at the screen door overlooking Jaemin’s patio.

“Of course,” Mark says. So they sit outside, on the steps to Jaemin’s patio, their knees knocking against each other nervously.

Their conversation is like the old Buick Mark used to drive him to school in: there’s a few false starts and a bit of stuttering, but once they get going, everything flows smooth as molasses.

Maybe their friendship, their relationship, has rusted over with time. But it’s easy to fall back into the rhythm of their back and forth, with Donghyuck leaning closer as he teases Mark and Mark trying his best to put up with Donghyuck’s bullshit.

“Hey,” Mark starts, when they walk back home together. They’re standing in between their houses, exactly in between, and Donghyuck is struck by the symmetry of it all. It’s beautiful, Mark’s beautiful.

“Hey,” Donghyuck echoes. He feels as if he is looking into a reflection.

“Let’s meet up again,” Mark murmurs. Then he turns away, and Donghyuck mirrors him. The two of them return to their respective homes, hearts warming with reunion.

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

That summer passes in a giddy rush. Donghyuck, like any self-respecting CompSci major at UCLA, takes a summer internship at a Silicon Valley company. Mark does the same, and the two of them meet for lunches when they can. It’s so funny, that newly-seventeen Donghyuck had thought that the end of high school meant the end of everything as he knew it.

Here’s another thing: life goes on, and once-impossible things now seem more possible than ever.

Donghyuck never thought he’d be back inside Mark’s house, after two years. The two of them pad in quietly, mindful of the empty silence.

“My parents are traveling for their twenty-fifth anniversary,” Mark says. They still haven’t turned the lights on; they’re walking around guided by moonlight and the neighboring glow of nearby houses.

“Okay,” Donghyuck replies. “Let’s—watch a movie, then.”

Mark scrolls through Netflix, humming as he views the options. Donghyuck directs where he should scroll from the sofa.

“Wait, stop!” Donghyuck says. “Go back three.”

Mark scrolls back, settling on a familiar poster. “Mulan?” Mark asks, disbelieving. “I’ve seen this, like, five times.”

“I’ve actually never seen it before,” Donghyuck admits, kicking his legs back onto the coffee table.

Mark gasps in mock horror. “No,” he says, placing his hands upon his heart. “This is a _travesty._ ” During high school, the two of them had opted for watching horror movies and Marvel sequels together, already convinced that the other had seen every Disney classic.

“So are we watching it?” Donghyuck asks.

“Of _course_ ,” Mark replies. “Shang is the most iconic bisexual character to ever—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Donghyuck says. He’s heard this rant more than a couple of times. “Let’s watch the movie?”

 _Mulan,_ is, in fact, everything Mark had hyped it up to be. And there’s something about watching a movie together, alone in the intimate darkness, that makes Donghyuck’s heart stir in his chest.

His eyes keep catching on the gentle slope of Mark’s shoulder, on the way he laughs at every joke, full-bodied and lively. At some point, as the minutes pass, they reach for each other in the dark. There’s something about a movie that brings about a shy confidence thudding in Donghyuck’s chest.

“Oh,” Donghyuck says, when the credits start to run. He looks over at Mark. “The movie’s over.”

“Yeah,” Mark replies, pausing the movie. The silence rings in Donghyuck’s ears. Their conversation is senseless, really—just useless words and unspoken feelings in the dark.

Nothing is tangible in a moment like this. Mark is as ephemeral as a dream, shrouded by shadow. And just like any other thing he has strived for, Donghyuck reaches—

And Mark meets him in the middle—

And so they kiss.

Mark is a mess of contradictions, everything Donghyuck used to know and so different too, somehow. When Donghyuck runs his hands through Mark’s hair, it’s no longer as soft as he remembers. When he kisses down Mark’s neck, savoring every moment of it, Mark’s breathing still goes shaky in a way that’s familiar as the blood in his veins.

When Donghyuck reaches down, looking at Mark for permission, he exhales a shaky sigh again.

“Wait—” Mark starts, hand wrapping around Donghyuck’s wrist. “Shouldn’t we _talk_ about this?”

Donghyuck blinks at him, considering. “Okay,” he says. Then he backs away, so that the two of them sit beside each other without even touching. He can feel Mark’s body emanating heat, and already he misses the tactile feel of skin on skin.

“Isn’t this—isn’t it—” Mark sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “This is too fast.”

“Is it?” Donghyuck replies. “It feels like years.” This summer had been an exercise in dancing around each other, shared smiles and half-buried truths they were too scared to voice.

Mark’s eyes narrow. “When was all of _this_ when you broke up with me?” he says.

Donghyuck closes his eyes. Suddenly, this is too much—maybe it wasn’t the case of the chicken and egg, no, maybe it was just Donghyuck Lee and his own fucking actions.

“If I told you I regretted it,” Donghyuck says slowly, opening his eyes, “if I told you I was sorry, would you believe me?”

Mark shakes his head. “That’s not the point, Hyuck,” he says, reaching out to clasp Donghyuck’s shoulder. “I _know_ you’re sorry.”

“Then what?” Donghyuck replies. “Do you accept—my apology?”

Mark sighs. “I can never hold a grudge against you,” he says, rueful, and it sounds like the saddest thing he has ever said. “But—” he breaks off, hesitant. “Why did you do it? You didn’t even want to _try_ going long-distance.”

Donghyuck shrugs. “I guess,” he starts, looking away, “I guess I was afraid you’d meet someone new, and better, when you were at college.”

“A relationship isn’t an iPhone, Hyuck,” Mark says. He laughs: an aborted, bitter sound. “I’m not _looking_ for a damn upgrade.”

“But,” Donghyuck says. He reaches out to cup the side of Mark’s cheek, gentle. “Do you want to do this?”

“Again?” Mark asks. He hums. “If you’re willing to try, then I will.”

 

☆彡☆彡☆彡

 

“Are you nervous?” Mark asks, holding onto Donghyuck’s hands. They’re sitting on Mark’s bed facing each other, the moonlight shining in through the open window. The cicadas still chirp through those last summer nights.

“Are you?” Donghyuck returns, smiling. The truth is, he’s excited, sort of _nervous_ at the thought of it. A heart-stopping jittery kind of nervous, but as soon as he sees Mark something in him settles. It makes him think back to when he asked Mark for a kiss; it makes him think to all the times before this.

“I asked first, Hyuck,” Mark replies, rolling his eyes. He strokes the top of Donghyuck’s head tenderly, sifting his fingers through his hair. “But no. Not really, I think?”

“Really?” Donghyuck says. He looks down, at where his thighs bracket Mark’s, then follows this path of vision all the way back to Mark’s shining eyes. “I guess I’m not, either.”

“Yeah?” Mark says. He leans forward, clasping a hand around the back of Donghyuck’s neck.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck breathes against Mark’s lips.

He can feel Mark grinning into their kiss, and Donghyuck breaks away, smiling back shyly. It’s infectious, it’s buoyant; he _loves_ it.

“Is this okay?” Mark asks, sliding his hand underneath Donghyuck’s shirt. His fingers tap a nervous pattern along the hem, _shy shy shy_.

Donghyuck nods, hears himself let out a shaky exhale when Mark’s fingers ghost against his chest.

“Of course,” Donghyuck says, eyes closing shut. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

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